


The Kinky Chronicles (aka: Eldrich entity turns prideful knight into a drooling mess)

by Tenebrum



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, Anal Gaping, Aphrodisiacs, Bad end, Bondage, Corruption, Creampie, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugged Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fantasy, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Monsters, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Other, Penis Size, Rape/Non-con Elements, Size Difference, Stomach Deformation, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29262720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenebrum/pseuds/Tenebrum
Summary: Rumors circulate on how the dark sorcerers make their servants. How they twist humans with magic and torture to become something else. Reality is sometimes more terrifying than fantasy...
Relationships: OC/mimic, OC/monster
Comments: 11
Kudos: 75





	The Kinky Chronicles (aka: Eldrich entity turns prideful knight into a drooling mess)

**Author's Note:**

> Now if you have somehow missed all the tags at the beginning, this is your last warning: TURN BACK NOW IF YOU ARE FAINT OF HEART!  
> To everyone else: Welcome fellow degenerates!  
> This is what happens when I can't find a fanfic that can scratch that particular itch.  
> So strap in and let's tortu- I mean write about some original characters.

Condensation and sweat dripping, mouth open and gasping for air, eyes wide open but unseeing. How much time has passed? He could not remember, one moment bleeds to the next, thick as molasse, punctuated only by the bright starbursts of pleasure assaulting him. Suspended in the air by magic, but feeling like hundreds of hands are holding him, stroking every inch of skin with ghostly touches. He feels overwhelmed and oversensitized, every nerve on exquisite fire, bringing him higher and higher with each release, an unending ocean of pleasure. He sees them from the corner of his eye, the hooded figure sitting in a lavish chair reading from a thick tome, inscribed with incomprehensible runes, that seem to twist and writhe by themselves. The being seems to have noticed his attention, because they turn their head towards his suspended form, their glowing blue eyes rowing over the twitching muscles glistening in the low candlelight. They close the tome, and it disappears into swirling shadows. As they stand up, the darkness making up their bodies grasps and twists, royal purple robe fluttering, the uncountable stars woven into the fabric dancing with each movement. They glide towards the knight, and he lets out an involuntary whimper. A bony hand grasps his face, preventing him from turning away in shame. This...monster...is why he is reduced to this pathetic state. His entire squadron is dead (not that he particularly misses those murder-happy assholes) and he is now the “plaything” of this entity.  
He is yanked back to the present by the thick black shadows rushing in to fill his open mouth. They feel solid, liquid, and vapor-like all at once. It fills his lungs with its heavy presence and his head with smoke. He floats for an indeterminable amount of time, just feeling. He is aware that he is making desperate, embarrassing noises, begging for more and more and more like a greedy whore. He must look the part too, a drooling mess covered with his own fluids. With the last of his will, he prays to the Gods, to any one of them who would hear his prayers. 

-Oh, you poor little lost soul - he hears the being chide, as the slowly encroaching darkness takes over his mind - none of them can hear you here.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-What exactly do you get out of this? - he asks, somewhat incredulously. 

He once again woke up perfectly clean and well-rested, like he spent the night in a high-end inn, and not getting turned into a drooling mess by the foul magicks of this being. He is currently laying on a (unfortunately or fortunately he can’t decide) lavish bed, unable to move. The entity is fiddling with something in a big box. 

-I'm guessing you are confused why you are not screaming in pain? It is true that most sorcerers use pain or fear as the anchor emotions for this process, but I find that pleasure is far more effective.

-...what process - he just felt that he should not have asked this.

-Ah - the being turned towards him - of course, I have not told you yet. I’m finding myself one short of a Black Knight. Finding you and your squad came at the perfect time if I do say so myself.

He feels his blood turn into ice at this revelation. Everyone knows what Black Knights are. They are the husks of human knights, twisted with dark magic to be servants of necromancers and dark sorcerers. Is this...his fate? Even death would be kinder.

-Of course - they continued. My method is quite different because of the way I do this. My magic will take over you slowly, and it will leave your mind intact. I like my soldiers to be at least somewhat autonomous, if I wanted a shambling horde I would just find a battlefield and resurrect the dead. 

They stand up from the box (he notices that it’s actually the perfect size for him), at a motion of their hand, the box begins floating behind them, and it comes to rest beside the bed. He struggles, but it’s futile in the face of the spells binding him.

-I will never serve you - he spits, somewhat uselessly, in the face of his helplessness

They chuckle as if they just did a particularly silly trick. 

-Oh, my little knight - they step closer and tip his head back with their claws, making him look into those blazing blue eyes - what made you think you have a choice? But besides that...look what I just made for you

Against his better judgment, he looks at the box at the side. Beyond the yawning doors, he sees...something moving. At the snap of their fingers, he begins hovering and is slowly moved over the box. As he gets closer, it comes...alive for a lack of a better term. It must be some subspecies of a mimic, because the inside transforms into a mess of writhing tongues and tentacles, dripping with saliva. His heart begins racing at the sight.

-What in God’s name are you trying to accomplish by feeding me to this monster? - he shouts.

-You don’t have to worry, this is one of my personal experiments. This will not cause you any harm. Some slight modifications to a normal mimic - their hand dips into the writhing mass, and it seems to give them affectionate licks - more flexible appendages, an aphrodisiac additive to their saliva, and increased saliva production in general, and of course, an alternative diet source…

He gulps, he has an idea what it could be. He can’t make out any facial features in the being, but he has the feeling they are smirking at him.

-This little thing will make you come as many times as it can, and - they step close to him, and drag a single finger down his chest, runes bloom to life on his skin, like ink spreading on a parchment. - there. We don’t want you running out of steam halfway through, do we? Now… play nice.

With that he is slowly lowered into the jaws of this...abomination, the fleshy tongues twining around his limbs, slathering his skin in their saliva. He could already feel the effects...his skin tingling, becoming more and more sensitive, heat gathering in his groin. Within moments, his penis stood erect, pre-come dripping from the tip. The tongues eagerly leap at it, licking and suckling his member. He cries out, white-hot pleasure shooting down his spine. The lid of the box closes over him, trapping him inside this...thing. The loss of sight hits him way harder than he expected it would, every sensation sharpening. It throws him over the edge violently, his whole world going white for a moment. The tentacles lap happily at his spilled semen, chasing him way past overstimulation, he is already ready to beg for this to end, but his traitorous dick is rising again, aided by whatever enchantment is buzzing on the surface of his skin. The other tendrils are busy exploring other sensitive places on his body he didn’t even know he has. From the shoals of his feet to his nipples, all weak spots are found and ruthlessly exploited. His second release chases the first, the amount of seed expelled somehow not decreasing. He writhes in their hold, unable to escape, bound and helpless. Then...one of the tentacles finds his entrance. His eyes widen in panic.

-Get the fuck away you monster - he shouts, trying to clench down to block the way for it.

The mimic seemingly doesn’t take too kindly to this, as it takes this opportunity to stuff two dripping tendrils into his mouth. The aphrodisiac is even more potent when delivered directly, a haze descends over him, his whole body going slack with pleasure. The next thing he is aware of is the orgasm torn from his body, rolling over him like a thunderstorm. It clears his mind momentarily, allowing him to notice how the tentacle slipped inside of him and is now on the search of...something. It does find it, and he arches as the feeling assaults him. The monster definitely likes this, as it begins relentlessly assaulting that spot making him cry out through the tongues shoved in his mouth. He loses track of time, as one orgasm chases another, cresting over and over, drawing him continuously deeper. He feels the stretch of more tendrils being added, butting up against his rim, before slipping inside, gradually widening him up. One becomes two, then three, then four...he loses count, all of them twining together into a mass, hitting that spot inside him with relentless accuracy. Stars burst behind his eyelids, constellations of pleasure blossoming and popping like sparkles. He is vaguely aware that he is drooling around the mass in his mouth, and would be making all sorts of desperate noises without the gag in place. At last, he just...surrenders. There is no point in fighting anymore, with no chance of freedom in sight, he lets his mind go blank and consumed by the haze.

An undetermined amount of time later, the sorcerer enters the room. The box still rests on the floor near the bed, but there is now a sizable puddle beneath it. They chuckle as they approach the box, dragging a single finger down the lid. It shudders, and slits along the side. The knight tumbles out of it, onto the soft carpet, accompanied by a veritable ocean of fluids, both of the mimic’s saliva and his own. They are still twitching mildly and shuddering from the aftershocks of the pleasure. They take his chin in hand and turn him to face them. With seemingly a lot of effort, they open their eyes and look at them. What they find in that gaze delights them: complete surrender. Yes, they will be taking great pleasure in making this man one of their own.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes, you want to know something, and even though all signs tell you, you would be better off remaining ignorant? He feels like the knowledge of what the entity plans to do with him is much, much worse than the uncertainty. Because now, he is keenly aware of how their magick is seeping into his body, changing him. One great example: He is sure that a human body is not supposed to be able to stretch this much….  
They are pulling out intricately carved dildo after dildo from seemingly thin air, always bigger than the previous one, then, after greasing it up with some kind of viscous potion, easing it inside him, and fucking him wider and wider open. He can’t seem to decide if the sorcerer is creating these things from thin air or if they have an extensive collection of dildos...and which one is worse… As he looks down on himself he can see his stomach bulging when they shove the phallus up inside him. They have been at this for hours, and by now he is taking something inside himself that is the size of his forearm. And for some reason, the entity decided that he will not come during the “preparations”, so a spell is preventing him from achieving an orgasm, even though all the pleasure. But...if this is the “preparation” for something - he shudders as he thinks about it - then what will be the “main attraction”.  
A low hum snaps him out of it. The entity is seemingly satisfied and pulls the thick dildo out of him with an obscene squelch. He twitches at the sound, and the feeling of emptiness and cold air hitting his now exposed insides. The sorcerer takes a long look at him, and motions at the door. It opens, and what steps in, makes all the blood freeze in the knight’s veins and his stomach drop. It’s an orc. A mountain orc to be exact, bigger than any of the ones he’s ever seen. His orange skin glistening in the low light of the dungeon. He narrows his eyes at the human’s prone form, then sniffs the air. Something must have caught his attention because he approaches the man. His bulk casts a shadow over him. The monster bends down and picks him up with one hand (of course the spells are not interfering with it, what did he expect?) and brings him closer to his face, his humid breath washing over his skin. The orc handles him like a kid would a toy, turning him this way and that with ease. It seemingly finds the source of the scent. Of course, it’s the potion used to lubricate him. The brute’s nose is dragging over his cleft, and, seemingly satisfied, he opens his mouth. The tongue that emerges...has no right being that big. It is tapered and much longer than it would be with human proportions. He has a second to connect the dots, then the orc’s tongue is inside his wet channel. His entire body arches and he screams into the gag in his mouth. The muscled appendage wiggles inside of him, making obscene slurping sounds and trying to find all the remaining traces of the potion. The continuous assault is chasing him higher and higher, and as he turns his head he can see the entity make a gesture from the corner of his eye. Immediately after that, his orgasm rips through him with the force of a hurricane. And the monster...will...not...stop. Tears spring into his eyes, as he struggles in his unbreakable hold and he sobs as the second orgasm hits him. He blacks out for a moment from the sheer force of it, and as he comes around, the orc’s tongue has already left his asshole, and he is leaking all the built-up saliva. He is brought into a more vertical position, and as his head lolls forward, he sees the monolithic erection between the orc’s legs. Of course, the potion would have aphrodisiac effects...he can feel it already. He can’t see a way where he gets out of this without being impaled on that massive tool...but then again he has been stretched well enough...so it doesn’t seem insurmountable. The orc seemingly knows what it wants, so he just...goes slack. The monster gives a rumbling chuckle and brings him to his crotch. The push-in is intoxicating, the monstrous penis stretching him open, but there is no pain, only overwhelming pleasure. As the monster bottoms out, his swollen balls now touching his ass, he feels like he will split open at any second. But at the same time, the massive tool is putting constant pressure onto that spot deep inside of him, which makes him see stars. If the gag wasn’t blocking his mouth, he would be moaning like a whore, but as of right now...he is just drooling all over himself. Then, when the orc actually begins moving, or, more accurately, he starts moving him like some kind of pleasure toy, he comes all over himself, cum painting the space between them white. His involuntary clenching must appeal to the brute because he does not stop the motions, instead, he speeds up, and on the next stroke inwards, he forces another inch into the man. In any other circumstance, he would be dead already. But now, he just wriggles, trying to get even more of that thing inside of him. Looks like the orc appreciates his enthusiasm because he drags two more orgasms out of him before reaching completion himself. The flood of thick seed fills him to bursting, with nowhere to go, his stomach bulges, as if he is pregnant. As the satisfied monster pulls him off his penis, the cum starts oozing out from his gaping asshole and running in rivulets down his legs. By the time he is laid back down, he is asleep from the exhaustion.  
The orc leaves the room and the entity approaches the prone figure. They are very pleased. It looks like the magic is working as intended because the man clearly thought the substance affected both him and the orc. He is becoming more and more dependent on the pleasure provided. Soon, he will lose any and all thoughts about leaving.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The low light was becoming quite familiar for him. With no windows, telling the time is impossible. He would not put it past the sorcerer to keep him trapped here for years or even decades. And the worst part is...he wouldn’t even resist at this point… Every waking moment of his is saturated with a haze of pleasure and his dreams all consist of him finally submitting to his Master. He knows that it is the magic working inside of him, taking over him. His manacles have long been removed for “good behavior”, and now he kneels in the center of the spell circle, skin covered in the entity’s marks of ownership.  
They are circling the perimeter of the circle, lighting the candles, and placing crystals. Soon, the smell of the incense is blanketing the room, with the unique smell of the sorcerer’s magic intermingling with it. It tastes like the air before a lightning storm, the gathering pressure, and power, that feels like a physical force.  
They complete the preparations for the ritual. He feels the last piece slotting in, the circle humming to life beneath him. The entity approaches him, as they cross the line, the runes on his skin also flare to life. He gasps involuntarily. He only notices how close they are, when they tip his head up with a gentle hand and make him look them in the eyes.

-Good - they say - the magic has taken to you magnificently. 

The praise sends warmth spreading through him. They don’t speak. They have not received permission to do so.

-Now, let us begin.

The first wave of power nearly topples him. It feels like lightning and fire and water all at once. Like the whole cosmos is opening up for him. The pulses come, one after another, stripping him of all thought. The only thing he can clearly see are his Master’s glowing blue eyes, like a beacon to the unknown. It brings him higher and higher, closer to some sort of peak. He looks up to his Master...and lets himself fall.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Most mortals are extremely annoying, but they also can be amusing to watch. This is why when they felt a team of human “heroes” enter their domain, they did not immediately disintegrate them on the spot. Instead, they watch as they navigate through the dangerous traps and monsters, ever-dwindling in number. At last, the only remaining human enters the throne room, his sword clutched in his hand, tattered cape trailing behind him. This one seems...almost familiar…  
He is making some grand speech, something about honor and justice, but his heart is not into it, there is something darker, more personal driving him.  
They interrupt him.

-Don’t delude yourself with these “noble causes” you are here for something else. You carry so much hatred inside of you...now, tell me...what have I done to earn this?

-You…- he is already shaking with rage, how adorable- you took away everything from, me. My country, my future...But above all else...

He snaps into motion, casting a fire spell in one hand and swinging his sword with the other.

-YOU KILLED MY BROTHER YOU MONSTER!!!

Ah, that makes sense, they think. His desperate charge gets interrupted by a black blur. They send a mental command not to kill the human, and their follower eagerly complies. In a flash, they have a human at their feet, trembling in pain from his broken arm, but still enraged. An idea occurs to them.

-Now...Tempest, would you be so kind to take off your helmet?

The human’s curiosity wins over his self-preservation and he looks at the Black Knight. The shock and anguish taking over his face is the sweetest reward.

-No….no no no no. This can’t be! - he cries.

There is no trace recognition in their follower’s eyes, even though their own flesh and blood is begging at their feet and calling them their long-forgotten name.

-Interesting...I see you have the same affinity for the magic that your brother does. Say, Tempest...would you like an apprentice?

The boy on the floor is terrified, but he still has no idea what it would mean...they can’t wait to see what face they make when they find out...

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this turned out longer than expected...  
> Much thanks to my friend Harmony for beta-reading this.  
> I do believe I have managed to secure my permanent place in hell with writing this...  
> Well, see you all there!


End file.
